The Long And Winding Road
by RingoIsMyTeddyBear
Summary: After Mary's death, Jim McCartney fears the worst for his son, Paul. He's upset, moody, lost, and introverted all of the sudden – the opposite of his usual happy self. But when Paul meets Caitlin, a lovely brunette from the other side of town, he realises how lucky he is. Please R&R, it would mean a lot.


_**The Long and Winding Road**_

Written by RingoIsMyTeddyBear  
(Brooke Baker)  
2nd September 2012

_After Mary's death, Jim McCartney fears the worst for his son, Paul. He's upset, moody, lost, and introverted all of the sudden – the opposite of his usual happy self. But when Paul meets Caitlin, a lovely brunette from the other side of town, he realises how lucky he is._

"What do you want for dinner, Paul?"

"Nothing."

"Mike?"

"Pasta will be fine."

"We had pasta last night."

"Yeah, but I feel like pasta now."

There was no use arguing. At least Mike wanted to eat something. Paul seemed to be starving himself, refusing to take a bite out of anything for the past week. Jim couldn't make him, though. Paul had to come round on his own. That was something that he and Mary knew was best…

_Mary._

It had been so cold since her death. Jim kept thinking she was around. He'd stretch his arms out to the other side of the bed to reach for her, but he could only hug air. Every thought revolved around her, or their sons. Just a short while ago, her mortality had been no topic of thought or conversation.

"Paul?" Jim asked.

His son, who was doing homework at his desk, looked up. "Yeah?" he asked.

"You're a good kid," Jim started, walking towards his son and ruffling his hair. "I hate to see you like this,"

"I'm fine," Paul answered. "Really."

Jim nodded, but he knew better. "Okay," he said softly.

Jim turned around, and then turned back. "Oh, Paul? Could you take this across the road, no. 22; the new neighbours'?" he requested, holding out a bouquet of yellow daffodils with a card attached. The card said "Welcome!" and had a cute illustration of a comical yellow sun and a pretty, green garden. Paul couldn't help but smile.

"Sure," Paul answered, accepting the flowers and card in his hands. "I'll do that now."

"Thanks," Jim replied, watching his son as he walked out the door. "Just don't be too long. Dinner's almost ready."

Paul stepped out into the fresh, pink sunset. It was five o'clock, and he could hear the muffled sounds of his neighbours' cheerful voices from inside their cosy homes as they prepared for dinner. Could his family have really been like that a few months ago?

He strolled down to Number 22. His heart was pounding as he knocked on the door, though he didn't know why. There was absolutely no reason for him to be nervous.

The door swung open, and there stood a girl – about Paul's age – with lovely brown twists of hair flowing past her shoulders and animated grey eyes. "Hello," she said. Her voice was gentle, textured with a London-type accent. "May I help you?"

"My family… well, my father…" – were they even a family anymore? – "wanted me to give you these. Welcome to Liverpool," he said, clearly noticing her accent – she definitely wasn't from the Merseyside.

"Ta," she replied, graciously taking the flowers and card. "I'm Caitlin, Caitlin Callister."

_Caitlin Callister. _That had to be one of the most beautiful names Paul had ever heard.

"I'm Paul. Paul McCartney."

She smiled at him, "would you like to come inside for a moment?"

Paul nodded, even though his father had said to be quick.

He stepped into their house. It was a fresh, modern house but it had unique, old-fashioned rugs, shelves, mantelpieces. The décor seemed to be the opposite of Caitlin.

Caitlin led Paul into the kitchen, where an older woman in her mid-forties was stirring from a pot, and two young girls were drawing pictures with crayons. "Mum, this is Paul. He came to welcome us to the neighbourhood."

"That's very kind, darling," Caitlin's mother answered. Her accent was even posher than Caitlin's, and, if she didn't look so unsettled, dishevelled, and tired, Paul would have felt nervous about his Scouse. "I'm Sandra… I see you've already met Caitlin. Those two artists by the table are Becca, and Amy."

Paul smiled, but he wasn't focusing on Sandra or Becca or Amy. One word kept flashing through his mind: _Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin Caitlin._

"Do you want to stay for dinner, love?" Sandra asked.

"N-no, I can't… I'm sorry… oh, but you're all welcome to visit any time," Paul answered.

"Thank-you," Sandra answered. Paul smiled nervously.

"I'll take you out," Caitlin told him.

As Caitlin led him to the front door, Paul wondered when the next time he would see those twisty brown locks and pretty grey eyes would be.


End file.
